Watching, Waiting, Ceasing to Exist
by Emmeebee
Summary: Every day like clockwork, Taisia watches the street from the window of her living room, waiting for the day a passer-by lingers for a moment too long.


A/N: Written by Chaser 1 of Montrose Magpies for QLFC Round 7.

My prompt this round was _Charlie's Angels: Full Throttle_ (2003). Since movie prompts are fun but can be difficult to identify the inspiration for, I've included an explanation in the A/N at the bottom.

Optional prompts: (location) Godric's Hollow; (object) letter; (word) watch

Also for the Build a Zoo Challenge with the prompt 'Godric's Hollow'.

Thank you so much to Emiliya Wolfe for betaing this — and for explaining the Russian naming system, such as how Taisia would refer to her sister as Inka instead of Inna as a form of affection. As a warning, there is a character here whose name is a little different than in canon because of this.

Word count: 2977

* * *

Taisia sat by the window, eating blini and caviar for breakfast as she stared out at the street outside. Godric's Hollow was bustling at this hour of the morning as the townspeople went to the local market to buy their groceries for the day. She had never been there herself, relying instead on her house-elf to fetch her supplies, but she longed to go. Back home in Saint Petersburg, she had made a point of visiting the markets weekly, relishing the quaint little stalls and the way they always smelled of perfume and street food.

As she watched, a family of four passed, the children chattering loudly about what they planned to do that afternoon. Somewhere deep inside, her instincts screamed for her to shrink back behind the curtains, but she resisted the urge. The small homestead was the safest place in the world for her, protected by both the Ministry's wards and her own. The people outside couldn't see the house, let alone the woman in the window. Assuming otherwise was pure paranoia.

Still, ever since Taisia had moved in after the breakout from Azkaban a month prior, she had made a habit of checking for suspicious activity multiple times a day. Like clockwork, she was there every four hours, waiting for the day that one of the passers-by lingered too long.

She took another bite of her meal, pausing to savour the rich, sweet taste as it filled her mouth. There was the slightest briny hint, enough to tease without being overpowering.

Oh, she had missed this.

Even though there had never been a doubt in anybody's mind that Antoshka was guilty, he had racked up thousands of galleons in lawyer's fees in an attempt to keep himself out of Azkaban. In the end, the only thing it had achieved was depleting their vault.

Her back tensed at the thought of her husband. Once, she had looked upon him with adoration, confident that he would never steer her wrong. But then he had joined the Death Eaters. While she was sympathetic to the preservation of pureblood tradition, she detested their means of achieving it. Yet when he had made the decision to throw in his lot with them, he had forced her to as well. She might not have the Dark Mark, but she had been tied to them all the same.

After he was thrown in prison, she had begged him to give her a divorce, but he had refused. Without his cooperation, she had no choice but to continue on as his wife; the law would not allow her to leave him otherwise.

While Antoshka was in Azkaban, she'd had enough freedom to act like they were separated, at least. But now that he was free again, she had no doubt that he would be searching for her.

She did not know what he would do if he found her and she refused to return to him. He had never hurt her, but he had come close once — the day she visited him in prison to ask for the divorce. His eyes had flashed, and his fists had tightened, and she'd known that if they weren't being watched, he would have hit her.

The Ministry had agreed to hide her, setting up a safe house in Godric's Hollow with the rationale that the Death Eaters avoided it like the plague since the Dark Lord's death. They had provided her with a house-elf to tend to her needs, but that was all; apart from that, she was alone.

Alone to watch and wait for the worst to happen.

Sighing, Taisia stood up, casting one last look over the streets of Godric's Hollow before moving back to the kitchen to put the dishes away. She had promised herself not to think about him anymore.

Then again, there was little else to occupy her time.

Perhaps she should finish her letter to her sister back home in Russia. Inka was the one person who knew where Taisia was and why. Fortunately, the older witch understood, having fled an abusive boyfriend in the past, and she made sure to write as often as she could.

News of Inka and her son would do Taisia's heart good. It would take a while for the letter to get all the way to Russia; even though Inka knew where she lived, owls were a security risk, so Taisia would have to send the house-elf to a post office and charter one of theirs, which tended to take longer. Still, even just the _thought_ of a response brought some cheer to the dreary little house.

She fetched her writing equipment before settling down at the dining room table, pleased to have something new to fill her time with.

 _Dear Inka,_ she began. _I know I say this every time, but it truly has been too long._

-x-

The world outside the window looked no different than it did any other morning. Nevertheless, Taisia sat in front of it, watching for anything that might suggest that today was different. She had been sending the house-elf to the post office every day to check for a response.

Her neighbour, a young man with a kind face, paused in the middle of the street to retie his shoelace. He passed by often, always alone or with a woman old enough to be his grandmother.

Taisia leant back in her chair, admiring him. He had an infectious smile and hair that she was dying to run her hands through. She had never been one to fancy strangers, finding that she needed an emotional connection before attraction could follow. It was a sign of just how much her marriage had deteriorated — or of just how starved for human company isolation was making her — that she was fantasising about a man when she didn't even know his name or the sound of his voice.

The man straightened and started forward once more, a spring in his step. She had no idea where he was going, but he seemed happy.

A flash of green light lit up the street, and the man collapsed in an instant.

Taisia's hand darted up to stifle the scream that ripped from her throat at the sight. She stood abruptly, not caring that the chair toppled over as she scurried away from the window. As she watched, a circle of hooded figures stepped into her line of sight.

She knew those robes. How could she not? She had washed them every week for eleven years.

Grabbing her wand, she closed her eyes and spun in a circle. It wasn't wise to Apparate when she was so distressed, but it was safer to risk being Splinched than to stay there. But instead of the familiar feeling of being squeezed through a tube, she felt nothing. When she opened her eyes, she found that she was still standing in her living room.

Anti-Apparition Wards.

"Popsy," she called. No matter where the house-elf was, she would be able to hear her.

There was no response.

"Popsy, to me. Now."

Still nothing.

There were only two reasons that a house-elf would refuse their mistress' call. The first was that somebody else had superseded the order. The second was that they were dead or otherwise incapacitated.

Since Popsy served Taisia alone, not Antoshka, the first was unlikely.

Either way, Taisia was on her own.

Closing her eyes, she forced herself to push all fear from her mind and remember the first time she'd met her nephew Dima. He was born four weeks early and terrifyingly small. But the moment she held him, she had fallen in love.

" _Expecto Patronum,"_ she murmured, watching as the familiar silvery robin flew out of the tip of her wand. "Find Nymphadora Tonks. Tell her that I am under attack. Hurry!"

She didn't even wait for the bird to fly away before she was turning and sprinting towards the back of the house. The Patronus would get there or it wouldn't; she had no time to waste watching it go. Even if everything went according to plan, there was no guarantee that the Aurors would arrive in time.

Or that they would even try to. She wasn't at the top of their list of priorities, and she knew why. If she were them, she wouldn't put her life at risk to save the wife of one of her greatest enemies either.

There was no use going for the back door. The garden was small and had nowhere to hide, and any wards blocking her escape were sure to extend to it as well. Instead, she scrambled for the supply cabinet in the kitchen and rummaged through it. Pulling out a carefully labelled vial and slipping it into the pocket of her robes, she took a deep breath and ran for the trapdoor she'd installed in the spare bedroom when she arrived. It was a long shot, but it was better than nothing.

Her heart seemed to skip a beat.

Aside from the Aurors, who had been sworn to secrecy, only one person knew that she was living in Godric's Hollow. Either Inka had betrayed her or she had been forced to give the information up.

Taisia had been so focused on not revealing _her_ location that she hadn't thought about protecting her _sister's_ location. After all, Antoshka knew Inka; she hadn't thought there had been anything to hide.

By writing that letter, had she condemned both herself and her sister to death?

She tried not to think about her sister's face, frozen in fear or twisted in agony, or of her nephew, now four-years-old but no less of a baby to her.

She was still trying not to think of those things when the front door blew in, blasting off its hinges and flying into the opposite wall with a loud crash.

-x-

Tonks' pulse raced as she Apparated into Godric's Hollow. A series of _pops_ pierced the unnatural silence that was hanging over the town, heralding the arrival of the rest of the team of Aurors. Even if she hadn't been there before, it would have been easy to find the house; the Dark Mark hung above it, the emerald green skull and serpent at odds with the pale blue sky. A small crowd of Muggles were gathered nearby, their curiosity clearly roused by the sudden appearance of a house that had not been there before. The Obliviator Squad were going to have their work cut out for them with this lot.

"Let me through!" Tonks called out, forcing her way through the group. "I'm the police!"

A body lay on the street, covered by a white sheet. Tonks glanced over her shoulder and gestured for Tibarn to attend to it. He outranked her, but this was her case; she knew he would go along with it.

He nodded and veered off to the left as she continued forward.

All of the windows had smashed as if from an explosion, and the front door lay in pieces on the floor. As she entered the house, she found two more bodies, both garbed in Death Eaters' robes. The house felt unnaturally still.

Months had passed since Tonks had last been here. She had come to oversee the placement of the wards before leaving, satisfied that her charge would be as safe as anyone could be with a Death Eater's ring on their finger. The intention had always been to return to check on her, but between work and the Order, she hadn't had the chance. Like spinning plates, all she'd been able to do was to focus on keeping them all moving, never lingering on one for too long.

Apart from the obvious, the house hadn't changed much since then. Taisia hadn't decorated the place, clearly viewing life there as a temporary state.

Tonks' steps faltered when she stepped into the spare bedroom and found the body. With dark blonde hair, modest clothes, and eyes that were intense even in death, there was no mistaking her.

There were no markings; the Killing Curse, then.

Her knees buckled. She had only met Taisia Dolohova a few times, the woman's imperious attitude pushing Tonks to avoid her as much as possible. It had been easy to dislike her; Taisia might find the Death Eaters' depravity distasteful, but it was clear that she did not disagree with their ultimate goals. Still, Tonks' job had been to protect her, and she had failed.

The sound of the rest of the team entering the house shook her from her thoughts. This was her case, and she was still relatively new to the force; she couldn't let them see her falling apart. Pulling herself together, she began casting the battery of diagnostic spells they always ran through at every homicide scene. She should have done it as soon as she was out of the Muggles' line of sight, but she had been too desperate to find Taisia to think clearly. " _Homenum Revelio."_

A glittering yellow light, pulsating to the rhythm of a heartbeat, engulfed Taisia's body.

What?

Tonks crouched down on the floor and put her hand to the woman's wrist, unable to believe her eyes. Her skin was cold and clammy, her chest was as still as the grave, and Tonks couldn't find a pulse. But, somehow, she was alive.

As Tonks moved her hand away, it brushed against glass. Grasping it, she pulled it out from under the woman's robes.

It was a vial, empty but for a few drops of clear liquid that clung to its sides. Lifting it up to head height, Tonks used her hand to waft any fumes towards her.

There was no smell.

This was one of the reasons a N.E.W.T. in Potions was compulsory for Aurors.

"In here!" she called out, rising to her feet. She would need to find a way to discreetly send a message to Severus Snape. "She's dead."

-x-

As soon as Taisia stirred, she knew that something was wrong. The bed was firmer and the air cooler, and the smell of taiga that she perfumed her house with was gone. Quiet chatter could be heard somewhere in the distance.

Then, slowly, the memories came filtering back in. Antoshka, his face ruddy with anger and entitlement. The Lestrange brothers, wands in hand in a clear attempt to intimidate her into compliance. Bellatrix, whom she had once counted among her friends, cackling wildly at the thought of a fight. Two men whom she had never met before, hatred in their eyes and violence in their movements.

Taisia, killing the two unknown invaders before downing the Draught of Living Death during the resulting chaos. An untrained eye wouldn't be able to tell the difference between somebody suffering from the effects of the potion and somebody who had been hit by the Killing Curse. As she fell, she'd tried to twist herself so that the vial would end up under her body, out of sight from the Death Eaters.

If she'd succeeded, she should be with the Aurors now. If she'd failed…

She opened her eyes. For her to be awake, her captors had to have given her the antidote, which meant they knew she was alive — there was no point trying to hide it.

At first, all she could make out was shades of purple: soft mauves, dark violets, and soothing indigos. As her sight cleared, she registered that it was a bedroom.

Not Saint Mungo's, then.

"You're awake," a voice said from somewhere to her left.

Taisia tilted her head and tensed as she caught sight of the woman standing beside her bed. For a moment, it was like she was looking at Bellatrix Lestrange. Then, she noticed the slight differences — the lighter hair, the kinder face, the softer voice — and her muscles relaxed. She had never met Andromeda Tonks, but their similarities were common knowledge. "Where... am... I?"

Her throat was dry, her body having slowed its production of saliva. She had to try to speak three times before the woman realised what she was saying.

Andromeda conjured a glass of water and passed it to her, watching as Taisia propped herself up and gulped it down. Once it was empty, she refilled it, and Taisia set it on the bedside table.

"As long as everybody believes you're dead, your husband has no reason to look for you, so Nymphadora didn't want to take you to the hospital in case word got out. For now, you're at my house — and, no, I won't be telling you where it is."

"What's next?"

"Nymphadora had to return to work, but once she returns this evening, she'll create a cover story for you. You will be able to relocate anywhere you want, but you won't be able to contact anybody from your previous life."

"What about my sister? She might be hurt." Panic rose within her at the thought.

A sympathetic expression crossed the woman's face. Taisia supposed the woman was familiar with being in the dark about a sister's wellbeing. "We have contacts in Russia. I'll ask them to put out feelers."

"Thank you."

"If you need help, call for Tinky and she'll fetch me."

With that, Andromeda left without another word.

Taisia settled back against the pillows, using her experience with Occlumency to force her fear back and pack it up in little boxes in her chest. Her mind whirred as she considered what would come next. First, she had to find out about Inka and Dima — and Popsy too. Depending on how they were, she would ask Tonks to incorporate them into her cover story. Then, she would go somewhere far afield — New Zealand, maybe, or Indonesia.

And then Taisia Dolohova would be no more.

* * *

A/N: Explanation: In the movie, someone steals a list of everybody in the witness protection program with the plan of selling it to crime families and drug cartels, so I decided to write about a character who was being protected by the government until that protection was compromised. Also, there's a scene where the Angels are shot but survive because they were wearing Kevlar.


End file.
